Imladris Past
by Arlia
Summary: Okay... let's get it overwith. The Princess of Gondor, Mirwen, realizes she can no longer be a spoiled brat, but isn't quite ready to take on reality. Takes place after ROTK. Nothing spectacular
1. The Tower Behind

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Imladris Past

A Tolkien Fan Fiction By

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Raven Usher

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Part One. The Tower Behind.

Mirwen walked along the battlements of the White Tower of Minas Tirith. Her eyes swept across the rings of the citadel before her. Her dark hair plaited firmly in a ring against the back of her head. The sun was sinking behind the mountains as Mirwen leaned upon the battlement, sighing heavily as a loose strand of night black hair fell into her face. She was surrounded by people that admired and respected her, but somehow, she felt utterly alone. She glanced over as one of the guards of the citadel came towards her. Mirwen immediately dug her heel into the stone walk and swiveled to turn around in the other direction, as she was meant to be attending dinner with The King of Rohan and her parents. 

She picked up her skirts, mumbling to herself as her shoes clamored down the staircase. Grabbing the handle to one of the heavy doors that led inside the tower she leaned against it and nearly toppled over as it gave way suddenly, granting her entrance. Mirwen hastily smoothed her skirts and ran a hand through her hair before setting off through the vacant hallways. As she began to round a corner she went headlong into one of the maids who had been carrying a tray of food. Both fell to the floor with a clatter.

"Have you know sense!?" Mirwen grumbled irritably. "Watch your step…"

"I'm sorry, milady," replied the girl, trying to collect herself. "I was just walking… And I… Forgive me…"

Mirwen growled crossly as she pushed herself to her feet. "I don't want to hear excuses!" With that she stormed down the corridor without a glance back at the unfortunate maid who was still behind, apologies stuttering off her tongue. Mirwen pushed the stubborn strands of hair back behind her ears as she came into the main hall she felt her forearm grabbed roughly to stop her.

"Mirwen! Where have you been? What are you doing? Why aren't you in the banquet hall?" It was the voice of her father's advisor, Domalan. 

"I was taking a walk…" she replied sullenly, giving Domalan a foul look. "I didn't realize that I was violating any law of the country."

"If you were my daughter, I'd box your ears good and hard," Domalan hissed lowly in his frustration, then he released a heavy sigh. "But you're not, and I don't advise the King on his family, only his country." Despite what he said, he began to lead Mirwen up a separate staircase towards the princess' chambers. "However, I'm not about to let you waltz in, in the middle of the dinner… After all, it is with-"

"The King of Rohan, I'm perfectly aware," Mirwen drawled in a bored tone.

Domalan jerked her, his agitation rising. "Stop it, Mirwen. You've been a spoiled brat your whole life. Can't you try to expand your horizons and think of someone else for even a moment?"

Mirwen's feet halted immediately as she tore her arm away from the advisor. She firmly placed her hands upon her hips, a superior look crossing her face. "I beg your pardon! You cannot speak to me like that."

Domalan slowly came to a stop as he took a slow breath as he looked at Mirwen. "I suppose you are right. You are not a child anymore, I don't have to tell you what you should and shouldn't do. It's not my job, nor my business." He paused as Mirwen's shoulders visibly deflated in shock of his humble manner. "You are the Princess of Gondor. You are a lady who's power is unparalleled to many in this Middle-Earth. It's about time you start to learn how to use that power, and stop acting like this spoiled child," he finished seriously. 

Mirwen's mouth was partially open. No one had spoken to her so frankly and so truthfully before. "Domalan… I never thought…"

Domalan sighed wearily. "I suggest you try thinking." With that, he said no more and turned down the corridor from where they had come, leaving Mirwen standing alone, watching his retreating back. 

Mirwen continued the rest of the way to her chambers silently. Her feet dragging as she pushed open the door and sat on her bed. Slowly she gazed about… every comfort available in Middle-Earth was at her disposal, yet she wouldn't allow herself to take too much to heart what Domalan had said to her. She flopped back down onto her bed, the feather pillow seeming to envelope her as her eyes roved to look out the window. Below her was the citadel of Minas Tirith, beyond those walls lay the countryside of Gondor, beyond that Rohan, and Isengard, Helm's Deep, Lothlorien… Yet all these places were little more than names, for she had never ventured outside the citadel. 

Mirwen rolled over on her side and shut her eyes, hoping this would close out her yearning to see those lands. _Rivendell._ The thought slipped into her mind. It was where her great-grandmother had come from. Arwen, the Elf, whom had given her mortality to Elessar, the one who ended a long line of Stewards, and gave Gondor its king. Both had died long before her birth, but she could never escape the stories.

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If I were immortal, Mirwen thought stubbornly to herself_, I would never be so foolish as to give it up for some man. Queen Arwen must have been mad to do that._ She sighed, succumbing to her own contemplation and opening her eyes. The sun was dipping below the far off mountains. _Someday… I may rule this land, _she thought. _But I don't want that… They don't need me. Like Domalan said, I'm just a spoiled child. No one wants me here,_ her thoughts finished sourly.

Mirwen thought about the sword of her father's. The one that had been passed down. Anduril. That's what it's name was. What use would she have for a sword? The princess remembered overhearing one night, she couldn't have been more than ten years of age, someone or other speaking of her. Saying how the King was disappointed that he had been given a girl, rather than a boy. There was no one to hand this sword on to, no one who would be able to learn how to use it properly.

_No one wants me here,_ Mirwen repeated in her mind, and sighed as a tear rolled down her cheek. _If no one wants me hear, I may as well leave._

(-*_~*~_*-)

Mirwen crept slowly through the halls of the White Tower, careful not to make too much noise. She wore one of her more coarser dresses, for she had no proper traveling clothes, she had other clothing and such in a pack wrapped in a blanket on her back. The adrenaline was coursing through her, she had never done anything remotely adventurous. She had been out of line, but nothing like this.

Mirwen pushed the doors to a separate room with all her might. The moonlight trickled in from in between the crack in the curtain of the throne room. She slowly walked up the steps to an elevated case made of fine silver. Mirwen slowly pushed it open and looked down at the blade of Anduril glimmering even in the faintest light. Mirwen's breath caught as she looked down at it. She grasped the hilt and took it from its place and secured it into its scabbard.

The princess closed the case with a snap, much louder than she would have liked. She stepped lightly across the floor to where the doors stood open. As soon as she had placed one foot outside the doorframe she felt her heart leap into her throat. There was the sound of approaching footfalls coming at a rapid pace. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead in fear that she might be caught.

"Who's in here?" demanded a voice entering the room.

Mirwen pressed herself firmly against the wall behind one of the curtains. She could hear the guard come closer to where she stood. There was a ring in the air as the guard unsheathed his sword from beyond the curtain. Mirwen prayed for a way out then looked behind her. The window! Fumbling for the lock on the window, she pushed it open. 

"Show yourself!" shouted the guard, ripping the curtain away. The stern face on the guard fell into confusion. There was no one standing there. He bent over to look out the window, all he could see was darkness. The guard turned away from the window at a half run.

Mirwen sighed with relief as she pushed herself up from the stone balcony that jutted out from one of the chambers. Her muscles were sore from where she had landed heavily, but she still had the sword grasped tightly to her. No doubt the guard had raised some sort of alarm.

The princess swung her leg over the rampart of the balcony and searched for footholds. Slowly she began to lower herself down the wall. She glanced over her shoulder to look below her, it didn't seem that far to the ground. All of a sudden, the rock onto which she held onto slipped from its place and she let out a short scream. Mirwen felt herself fall as if forever to the ground. 

Mirwen groaned. Her arm felt as though it had broken, but she couldn't stop now. _Oh, why did I decide to do this?_ She thought. Mirwen used her good shoulder to prop herself up, then stand. Mirwen picked up at a run, taking her away from the tower and into the citadel. She lost track of how much time it took her before she got to the stables.

She selected a black mare from the lot, already saddled in case there was an emergency messenger needed. Mirwen took the horse by the reins and began to lead it towards the door of the stable.

"My lady, are you sure you know how to ride that?"

Mirwen raised her head to look up. Domalan was standing at the door. "What are you doing here?!" she gasped out.

"I was walking the halls when I walked past one of the guards. They told me that Anduril had been stolen. That is Anduril you have with you, is it not?" He spoke calmly.

"Yes, yes it is," she said with downcast eyes.

"You took what I said to heart," he said slowly, surveying Mirwen, her hands firmly grabbing the reins of the black mare.

"Well, yes."

"But in your own way, I see." Mirwen didn't reply, but Domalan didn't wait. "No one deserves to posses that sword more than you. Though, you hardly know how to use it."

"What are you talking about?"

"If you have decided to go out into the world, you will need the best of swords to protect you," Domalan sighed. "Where are you going to…"

"To Rivendell," Mirwen replied without hesitation, though she never had taken a moment beforehand to actually think about what her destination would be.

Domalan's eyes widened. "Rivendell… that is very far from here. Can you make the trip?"

"I don't exactly know…" she sighed in dismay. 

"Well, if this is how you expect to grow out of your spoiled brat shell, I wish you all the best of luck…" 

Mirwen studied him in confusion. "Thank you…" She began to lead her black mare out of the stable, but not before Domalan was out of earshot. 

"May Valinor watch over you."


	2. Reality Commences

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Part Two. Reality Commences

Mirwen's head lolled wearily as her mare trotted over the open land. She had ridden for almost three days without stopping to meet up with any other living person along the way. Though her arm was not broken from her fall, it still caused her much pain, delaying her ride even more so, considering her lack of skill with horses. She had little skill with anything, for that matter. The sun began to crest over the horizon and Mirwen's eyes focused on something far off. It looked like a large town, it didn't seem big enough to qualify as a city, not compared to Minas Tirith.

The sun had cast its rays full upon the land that surrounded her. She was vaguely aware as her horse led her into the town, which, even in the early hours of the day, had already seemed to have come alive. Mirwen rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Her hands were sore from holding the reins, and the sword felt incredibly heavy to her. 

"Searching for shelter, are you, my lady?"

Mirwen glanced down from her mount at a young man, slightly younger than herself, walking beside the horse. Grateful as she was, she could only simply nod through her weariness. 

"You'll want The Blue Mountain Inn, I suppose," he offered. "And your horse, well, as a traveler you already know the substantial stables we have here in Rohan."

Mirwen's eyes seemed to fall into confusion, being unworldly as she was. _Ah, yes. Rohan's renowned for their skill with horses._ "Thank you," She managed forcefully.

"One more thing, whether you mind it or not, I must ask. On what business do you travel within the borders of Rohan?" he asked cautiously. 

"Oh, well, I am traveling north… Visiting some family I haven't seen in a while…" This wasn't all entirely a lie, she felt, it was _like_ she was visiting family she hadn't seen in a long time. A part of her family she dearly wished to become more accustomed to. 

"I can clearly see, you are not of Rohan descent," he replied warily. "You travel from the south, and judging by your clothing and scabbard, you must be from Gondor. The White Tree tells, all, my lady," he added at her surprise. "What family does one of Gondor have in the north?"

"Well, that's what I intend to find out." Again, not entirely speaking in lies.

"I wish you luck then," the young man said softly. He raised his hand to point up the scarcely paved streets. "The Inn is just up ahead. Impossible for you to miss."

"Thank you," she said at length, her stubborn nature unaccustomed to giving thanks to those of a lower rank. However, if it would do to rid herself of him. He was just slightly too observant for comfort. After trying various different commands, she was able to get her horse moving at a trot in the way she had been directed. Soon enough, the Inn came into view. It wasn't too different from the Inns she had seen while walking the streets of Minas Tirith, however rare the occasion might have been. It was respectable enough, though it could use a decent coat of paint. 

Mirwen dismounted her horse, using a rather embarrassing method. With one foot on the ground and one foot still in the stirrup she tried to balance herself and remove her foot at the same time. It didn't work as she had planned. Mirwen's face colored with her frustration as she pulled her foot freely from the boot that had been wedged in the stirrup. The color in her face deepened as passerby's chuckled under their breath. She pulled the boot from the stirrup and replaced it on her foot. Trying to maintain her pride, she held her chin high and brushed off the front of her dress.

A nearby stable hand who had seen the whole ordeal watched her with arched eyebrows. He ran his hand through his graying hair and shook his head, smirking. "I'd say you could do with a few riding lessons, miss."

"I've never ridden before," Mirwen explained, with all the dignity she could muster. 

"You didn't have to tell me that. I can tell a rider from an imposter."

Mirwen continued to hold her head high, in an almost arrogant manner. "If you are done pointing out my imperfections, I'd like to leave my horse here for the night. How much will that cost me?"

The stable hand took Mirwen's horse by the reins, leading it under the shelter. "You're staying at the Inn, correct?"

"That is correct…"

"It'll go on your bill then," he replied. 

Mirwen nodded, turning to the front door of the Inn. Even before she turned the knob of the door and allowed herself entry to the common room, she knew that she would not find the setting suitable as she was accustomed to. Stepping inside it seemed as if her lungs were being sufficed by just the smell of the room. The air seemed stagnant, like it hadn't been moved or circulated at all in years. Mirwen's nose scrunched disapprovingly.

"Hello, and welcome to the Blue Mountain Inn," said a round-faced innkeeper with stringy blonde hair pulled away from her face. "Were you looking for a room, a drink, perhaps just somewhere to rest your feet?"

"A room for the night," Mirwen replied, her face still showing displeasure for the state of the inn.

"Of course, of course," the innkeeper said, wearing a smile. "Follow me, miss, follow me. The inn isn't very full. I have the perfect room for someone like yourself, the perfect room!"

Mirwen clenched her jaw, already in a foul mood, as her temper was something that easily rose. "Forgive me," she said in a voice that did not sound like it was asking for forgiveness in the slightest. "But you don't need to repeat everything you say. I don't have a hearing problem. I can actually hear quite nicely."

A veil of humiliation falling over the woman's previously cheery face. "No… no, of course not, I was just trying to be friendly… I was only trying to be friendly."

"Again with the repeating," Mirwen said irritably. "What do you take me for anyway?"

The innkeeper stopped in front of one of the rooms, fumbling with some skeleton keys on a ring. She kept her eyes firmly fixed on the keys as she could feel her anger rising. "I certainly don't take you for anyone I wish to be further acquainted with."

Mirwen kept her chin level with her unyielding pride, feeling as though she should not be required to make a reply.

"Enjoy your stay," the woman muttered, unenthusiastically. Her eye beginning to twitch at Mirwen's rude nature. 

"Hmph," Mirwen sighed, stepping into the room, not dwelling a moment longer on the event that had just occurred. As she gazed about the room Mirwen felt her mood turn even worse. The room was in worse shape then the common room of the inn. The mattress of the bed was hard and lumpy from age and use. The walls and floor were covered in a thin layer of dust, making it clear that no one had bothered to clean it for what could have been years. 

Mirwen crossed the room to where a bureau stood with a basin that was cracked along the lip and a pitcher of water with a dusty and streaked mirror staring back at her. Mirwen looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was unkempt, and she was beginning to wish she had brought a comb with her. But she hadn't she was alone in the world.

Subconsciously, Mirwen took up the pitcher of water and poured it in the basin, which was about as clean as the rest of the room. The princess felt her heart grow heavier and heavier as she watched the grime swirl in the water. She cupped her hands and cleared the dirt that had been on her face. Mirwen raised her eyes to look back in the mirror, her face was still wet from the water, which was fortunate. It was difficult to discern the water from her tears.

"Why did I leave Gondor? Oh, I shouldn't have left!" Mirwen sobbed, burying her face into the palms of her hands. Her shoulders shook as the grim reality of what she had decided to do set in on her. "Why did I leave?" she repeated quietly to herself.

_Because you were insufferable. You don't want to go on being that miserable person do you?_ Oh great, her conscious was coming out. She hadn't heard from that part of her psyche in a long time. Her plan of traveling to Rivendell already seemed to be as proving itself as paper thin to her. 

"What good will Rivendell do?" she muttered, feeling herself calm down slightly.

_Rivendell has the tendency to bring out the best in people, or, at least that's how the stories go._

Mirwen fell face down onto the lumpy bed, her breathing still a little shaky. There was a change coming over, slowly but surely, she was changing. What Rivendell had in store for her, it was impossible to tell. Her bones ached from traveling. In all her pampered life, need had never caused her to leave the Tower. And now that it had, she was more frightened then she had ever been. But it was worth it. She was striving for something now. Mirwen couldn't exactly place her finger on what it was she wanted so badly, but all she knew was she didn't just want this. She needed it. 

It was important to her to find out about her past that she knew so little about. No one in the White Tower seemed to be able to tell her much of her Elven heritage. That may be because it flowed so weakly through her. There were some who could remember their parents telling them stories about Queen Arwen, but that was it. The documentations gave her no satisfaction. She needed something more. It was a part of her that she knew nothing about. And she wanted to change that. She needed to change that.


	3. The Right Track Is Not Always Paved With...

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A/N: Thank you to Eliza Evenstar for inspiring me to the continue with this story, for I hadn't bothered to update it since July. I always thought no one would ever find it buried under the infinite Tolkien-fics. Well, here's the third part that I thought I'd never right. Thank you again for proving me wrong!

Part Three. The Right Track Is Not Always Paved With Gold

The next morning brought on a thunderstorm that even the oldest of the town could not remember a worse one. The shutters of the Blue Mountain Inn banged violently against the outside walls, threatening to shatter at any moment. Mirwen found herself looking back into musty mirror as the storm raged on. Her eyes were red and her hair was in a worse state then the previous day. And worse of all, she was miserable. It was the one feeling that Mirwen had rarely been accustomed with in her life.

She tried to smooth it back as best she could, but it was as stubborn as ever. Her dark eyes glancing over at the window as a crash of thunder echoed through her ears

and a brilliant flash of lightning illuminated the room. Mirwen cast another look around the room. She had recovered her strength, and she could not bear to stay any longer, no matter what the weather conditions were.

It wasn't long before Mirwen was in the stables, trying her best to saddle her mare again as quietly as possible. She muttered angrily to herself, each time she tried, it would slide of the mare, onto the ground. The mare shook her head and neighed, waking the stable hand that had dozed off in the corner.

"What're you doing?" he grunted, coming out of a deep sleep.

"I'm leaving," Mirwen replied, not taking her eyes away from the saddle. "Isn't it obvious?"

"You can't leave now," the stable hand protested, climbing groggily to his feet. He pointed out the window, sleep causing him to stall his speech. "There's a storm out there."

"I don't care," she muttered, then stamped her foot as the saddle fell to ground again. She turned slowly to the stable hand, fidgeting with her skirt. "Um… I was wondering… Could you… um…"

"Help you with that?" he finished for her, grinning slightly.

"Yes," she said softly, still trying to look preoccupied, but to no avail. "If you wouldn't mind… that is."

"My lady," he said graciously, coming alongside her. "It would be my pleasure."

She turned her gaze towards him, the conceited look falling from her eyes, replaced with utmost gratitude. Mirwen couldn't believe that his voice had been free of all sarcasm. "You… you would?"

"Of course. Granted, you may not deserve my courteousness entirely, but I believe that's what we're here for."

"Here for what?"

The stable hand secured the saddle and turned towards her, a gleam in his eye that gave him the appearance as though he had a philosophy for everything. "To help our fellow man, whether they deserve it or not."

"That's very kind of you, I suppose…" she muttered, not returning his gaze, and instead choosing to distance herself.

"You're a spoiled brat."

"I beg your pardon!" Mirwen gasped out. Never before had a complete stranger had the audacity to say something so demeaning of her character, however truthful it was.

"I can tell," he continued, as if he had no regard for the words she had just spoken. "But… you're different. You're not like those other aristocrats too full of themselves to come back down. You can change."

The princess opened her mouth partially. How was it that someone she had known for all of maybe ten minutes could read her so plainly? It almost made her want to weep that someone knew what she wanted, but lord knew she had cried enough already. "I need to change."

He smiled warmly. "The right track isn't always paved with gold, remember that."

Mirwen nodded, hoisting herself up into the saddle. "Thank you, sir." She wrapped her cloak tightly around her and pulled her hood deep over her head. "I'll try and remember that," she added with a grateful smile, then made her way out of the stable.

Upon being exposed to the brutality of the elements, it was all the young woman could do not to be knocked off her mare. She wrapped the reins around the back of her hands and bent close to the horse so as to try and keep her balance better. Mirwen was going over her direction in her mind, thinking of what way she should be going. When she had made her way out of the time she was trying to recollect in her mind what she had seen the previous mind. Assessing mountain ranges, forests, and rivers. She was feeling slightly more confident in where she was going as she moved further on her trail. All she could do was hope that conditions would improve.

(-*_~*~_*-)

Several days passed since Mirwen had left the small Rohan village behind her, though the storm had seemed to have followed her. And for those past several nights, she hadn't been so fortunate as to find an Inn, or another town for that matter. The previous night had been no exception. She had did her best to sleep in a small alcove of trees to try and ward off the rain, but it wasn't exactly sufficient, taking her a long time to fall into an uneasy rest. 

"Oh damn!"

Mirwen opened her eyes groggily at the sound of a voice. She turned around to see a cloaked figure rummaging through her saddle bag, not far off.

"Hey!" Mirwen shouted. "What do you think you're doing!?"

The dark figure raised it's head when it realized they had been noticed, then dashed for their horse not too far away.

"Oh no you don't!" Mirwen growled fiercely, reaching for Anduril -still sheathed- which she had kept nearby. If the Princess could do anything, it was run fast, catching up with the other person, she swung Anduril around and hit the figure square between the shoulder blades. They groaned and fell face first in the mud. 

Mirwen's eyes were lit fiercely with anger, her journey hadn't been too decent, and her temper had simply gotten loose. "What did you steal!?" she shouted, loosening the blade in its scabbard.

"I didn't take anything!" they spat, pushing themselves up from the mud. 

"Liar," she challenged, fully unsheathing the blade - though only with a little less difficulty as it took her to first dismount from a horse. "What did you steal?" 

"Just some stupid book," the thief muttered vehemently, tossing a red, leather-bound book at Mirwen's feet. The princess' eyes widened slightly as she bent down to rescue the book from the mud. "Probably just your diary or something."

"It is not!" she snapped heatedly, trying to wipe the mud. Which in a sense… it was. Something similar to a Captain's log on a ship. She turned away and walked off to her horse, preparing to ride off again. She assumed the thief would run off with nothing more than a hateful mutter. 

"I didn't want to have to do this…"

Mirwen only had a split second to react to what was happening. She whipped around to see the thief run at her with a dagger drawn. She closed her eyes and tried to get away, but she couldn't quite escape it. The dagger had not hit its mark but had buried itself in her right shoulder. Doubling over and falling to the ground, Mirwen let out a shrill scream of pain. The dagger had caused her agony like she had never felt before in her life. 

"You're not… no…"

The young woman looked up into the face of the thief from her place in the mud, her dark eyes flaring with anger, but was quite surprised to see an ashen look upon her assailants face. He was pointing to the White Tree of Gondor embroidered on her saddlebag.

"Oh… why didn't I notice it before!?" he groaned. He got down on his knees as if pleading. "Tell me you're not Mirwen of Gondor! Tell me you're not the princess!"

Mirwen could only spit in his face, the pain overwhelming her. "So what if I am!?" She clutched at the daggers hilt, hot tears of anger and pain coming from her eyes.

"Here let me help you…" he offered, slowly taking out the dagger. Mirwen openly cried from the pain. 

Afraid to move her arm, she settled for kicking him the first place her foot came in contact with - which happened to be his stomach. He gasped out, not exactly expecting what had just happened, but accepted it. The man reached out to inspect the wound, but she jolted backwards.

"What makes you think I'll trust you?" Mirwen's dark eyes seemed to be scanning the mud, a light in her eyes. "How did you know who I was?"

"It's common knowledge…my lady, that you've disappeared from the White Tower…" he said softly. "Please, let me take a look at that."

Mirwen bit her lip. What the dagger had left on her hurt so much, she wanted to be rid of the pain so badly. Even if it meant trusting the one who had inflicted it upon her. "Alright…" she whispered softly.

Without warning he had ripped the sleeve away, making her eyes flare a little at his audacity. "I'm sorry… But I need to get a good look at it or it could become infected."

Mirwen set her jaw and let him continue though the situation made her feel incredibly put off. By the time he had finished the pain had not completely receded, but she was in quite a hurry to leave him behind as soon as she possibly could. He tried to help her onto her horse, but she kicked at him with her boot.

"Leave me alone!" she snapped. "Haven't you done enough already?!"

"Please, let me … make it up to you!"

"Make it up to me!?" Mirwen cried incredulously. "What could you possibly do."

"I can lead you to where you'd like to go… within reason," he added on quickly. "And I can offer you a warm bed to sleep in for a little while, at the very least."

She paused slightly, fingering the horse's reins between her fingers. "A warm bed… you say?"

"At the very least," he replied humbly. 

"Alright," she muttered at length. "Since you know my name, it is only fitting that I know yours."

"My name is Ormael," he said, bowing at the waist. 

"Well, Ormael," she stated, slipping again into her regal posture, despite the pain still present in her shoulder. "I'd like you to lead me to this _warm bed._ How far is it?"

"My brother has a farm not too far from here," he replied promptly. 

"Well, don't keep wasting my time, lead the way…" Then Mirwen thought back to what the stable hand had said to her, so she sighed heavily and added a bit strenuously. "Please."


	4. Betrayel

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A/N: Thanks again to Eliza Evenstar for reviewing! Sorry for taking so long to update. That's just me, though. J 

Part Four -Betrayal 

It was late afternoon before they had arrived at the farm. From what Mirwen could tell it looked respectable enough, though, slightly tired as if Ormael's brother had simply let several things slacken off. She was already thinking of how nice it would be to sleep in a bed again. The covers, a pillow… granted, it wouldn't be anything like she had been used to in Minas Tirith, but it was better than sleeping out in the storm, that could clearly be seen reforming in the east.

"I didn't think I'd see you around here again," said a gruff voice from somewhat behind.

Both Ormael and Mirwen came to a stop and turn to look at the man who had spoken. It was no wonder they hadn't noticed him, for he blended in perfectly with the fields behind him. He was tall, taller than Ormael, and from his brooding eyes it seemed clear that he was the elder of the two, if only by a couple of years. His hair was dark brown, almost black and seemed to ripple in the setting sun.

"Tobias!" cried his brother cheerfully as he dismounted from the horse and caught him up in an embrace. "Long time no see!"

Tobias briefly returned the embrace, then bent down to pick up a shovel from the ground, his eyes focusing on the handle. "Aye… three years, has it been? I'm surprised to see you alive. After you told me how you'd make your money… Thievery, looting, and that sort."

The younger sibling tried to shrug of the matter, smiling a but nervously. "Well… you have to make a living somehow." Before the other man could open his mouth to reply, Ormael made a quick gesture to Mirwen. "I hope you don't mind, but I offered the young lady a place to rest up for a couple of days before continuing on her road."

Tobias turned his gaze to Mirwen for the first time, his eyes faltering slightly and went back to the ground. "Greetings, milady. I hope my brother hasn't been too troublesome."

She smiled, his courtesy so refreshing that she almost forgot to reply. "Ah, thank you, yes, your brother has been… well… helpful, in a sense."

He continued to finger the handle of the shovel. "Well, please, continue to the house, I won't be much longer. We can speak more of this over dinner."

Ormael nodded and smiled broadly. "Of course. Just glad to see you again, brother."

The man went back to tending to the field, smiling without much enthusiasm. "I'm sure you are."

The thief turned back to Mirwen and resumed leading her towards the house. But the young princess found herself casting her gaze back towards the figure of Tobias in the fields. The two seemed far too different to be brothers. It was shocking, almost. 

After securing their horses in place, Ormael led her into the main room of the house. It was simple, tidy, in order, the vision of a welcoming home. There was a fire crackling in the hearth and a rather inviting looking table. 

"I'll go get your saddle-bag," Ormael said, turning back outside, as if he had now assumed the role of a loyal servant.

Before Mirwen could reply he had already gone outside. Not all that concerned, she shrugged and walked across the room, warming her hands near the fire. She was wet and muddy, had never been more uncomfortable in her life. Hopefully things would be changing that night.

Later on, Mirwen had been offered a spare room in the house, which she took to gratefully. As she dug through her clothing her hopes at becoming comfortable were quickly stepped upon. All of her clothes had been soaked through with rain water and would do her no good. Mirwen shivered a little, looking out the window as the sun dipped below the horizon. _It will be cold soon_, she thought bitterly. 

There came a faint knocking at the door at that moment. "Milady, is everything to your liking?"

She recognized it as Tobias' voice and nodded, though she knew he couldn't see her through the door. "Yes, I'm just fine."

"Very well, then…" his voice trailed off as he walked away from the room.

Mirwen angrily raced her fingers through her long hair, praying that this would somehow get out the tangles, however, it just made it worse. The princess grumbled quietly about her current state and left the room, the thought of her sodden clothes just too much to bear. In the main room she found the two brother's dispersing a stew into bowls on the table, which smelled surprisingly good.

The meal had passed mostly in silence. Mirwen really had no desire to speak, and was truly focused on trying to ignore the cold that was slipping into her bones, and there seemed to be a tension between the brother's that neither wished to confront. It finally took Mirwen dropping her spoon for the awful silence to be broken.

"Are you alright?" Ormael asked under his breath, as though it were some sort of secret.

The princess snatched up the spoon quickly. "I'm just fine," she said from behind gritted teeth.

Tobias raised his eyes to look Mirwen directly into hers for the first time. "You don't look well," he commented. His dark eyes looked her over again. "You're cold… why didn't you change out of your wet clothes?"

"Into more wet clothes, you mean?" she snapped, unable to keep her spiteful nature down through the chill in her bones.

The man stood up, shaking his head slightly. "Why didn't you say anything? Follow me."

Almost hesitantly, Mirwen stood and followed Tobias into the other room of which the door had been slightly ajar. He knelt down in front of a chest that sat of the base of the bed, rummaging through it before emerging again, turning to Mirwen.

"You can wear this until your clothes are dry," he said, removing a faded, wool dress from the chest and carefully handed it to her as if it were a precious artifact. It felt so much warmer by comparison in her hands that Mirwen almost laughed with happiness that she could wear something dry again. She cast a glance over the contents of the chest. There were several pieces of women's clothing and a few scattered accessories, none for a man.

"What need do you have for a chest of women's things?" she blurted out, forgetting any etiquette she had learned while in the White Tower.

"They are … were my wife's," he replied softly, though his tone was disheartened he did not seem as though the question had caught him off guard. The princess' mouth was partially open as if she meant to reply, but he cut off the possibility so that she wouldn't have to. "I know that having your hair a mess like that must bother you," he replied, turning back to the chest. "Renuia always hated it," he added in a softer tone.

Mirwen found herself accepting a comb that appeared to be rather valuable, made from a fine polished wood she did not recognize. "Thank you," she breathed with relief. 

He nodded a little, and Mirwen swore she saw a small smile try and creep onto his lips. 

(-*_~*~_*-)

"Where do you two plan to go from here."

"To Gondor… The White Tower."

Tobias' eyes showed slight surprise at this. He had waited until the young woman to be asleep for them to carry on a conversation that was liable to end in a nasty argument. "The White Tower? What business have either of you there?"

"Haven't you heard? The Princess Mirwen was supposedly kidnapped and the king is offering a reward to whomever brings her back."

His brother tripped over his words as he tried to get everything out at once. "You… Why.. How… Are you trying to tell me you kidnapped the Princess of Gondor!?"

"No," Ormael replied quickly. "No, no, no, no, no! Not at all. She ran away. She wants me to lead her to Lothlorien at the least. I figure she wouldn't know until the last minute that I was leading her back to Gondor."

There was a pause between the two. "I don't know if you should…"

"What?! Of course I should be doing this. I'd be doing the right by bringing her back, and I'd be rewarded for it!" 

"You shouldn't be tricking her into going though…" he muttered in reply. "Did you even ask her why she had left? Did you bother to ask her at all about what her motive was?"

"Why is this suddenly so important to you!?" Ormael snapped heatedly. "You always said I should stop hindering everyone and make something of myself, well, I'm trying to be helpful."

"Yes… but you could send word that maybe this is what she wanted…"

"Why does this matter to you…?" A heavy silence fell between them and he realized what had come over his brother. "I know she resembles…"

"That's not it…" Tobias said quickly but quietly.

"You know as well as I do that's what it is." He waited until his brother would look him in the eyes. "_She's not Renuia._"

"I never said she was!" he retorted, trying to keep his voice from rising too high. "The point is that you shouldn't be _lying_ to her. That's all." Without preamble he rose from the table and went outside before a confrontation could escalate from their disagreements.

Mirwen sat on the edge of her bed in the other room, her body shaking with anger. She should have known that she couldn't trust Ormael. _How could I be so stupid?_ she thought bitterly. 

**__**


	5. Lorien Bound

__

Again, I grovel! So sorry for taking so long to update! But I thank you so much for reading it and your patience! Again, INCREDIBLY sorry for the delays!

Part Five. Lorien Bound

Mirwen didn't sleep much that night. Her hatred for Ormael had grown to the point where she had not left herself much room to think of anything else. As soon as the morning had cracked she was already prepared to leave, hoping that she would be long gone before either of the brothers noticed her absence. 

Her plan, however, was not to be. Tobias was standing not far from her horse with his back to her. He stood still as if he were a statue, encased in an immobile form till the end of all eternity. Taking a breath she approached her horse and hoisted her saddle-bag into place, the sudden movement making the man start. 

"Leaving so soon?" he questioned in a monotone.

"Yes," was her sharp reply. "I heard you and Ormael talking. I will be nobody's fool. I'll go to Rivendell on my own. Even if it takes me twice as long." Her fingers froze as she tightened the straps on the saddlebag, all the muscles in her body had suddenly seemed to become taut. "I will _not_ go back to The White Tower."

"I will lead you, then," Tobias said softly, not bothering to look away from the rising sun. 

The princess' brow knotted in confusion. She looked at him, but his expressionless face yielded nothing to his motive. "I'm not going back to Gondor," she repeated.

"I don't intend to bring you there. I will lead you to Lorien at least…"

A new touch of accusing anger came to Mirwen's heart. "I don't think I can trust you."

He turned on her suddenly, becoming slightly angry in his own turn. "I'm trying to help you. Is that too much for you to accept! If you are who Ormael takes you to be, then I'm putting a lot on the line, here! Why can't you be grateful for that!?" He deliberately looked away from her and proceeded to mount his brother's horse.

Mirwen stood where she was, taken aback by his frankness. She knew the brother's were different, but the fact was she didn't know either Ormael's or Tobias' character. At length she sighed and climbed onto her own mare. "Fine then, lead the way."

Tobias curled the leather reins about his callused hands and stared at the horse's mane. "You trust me, then?"

"Aye," she said, with a little difficulty. 

He kept his eyes fixed on the horse's mane, but something that distinctly resembled a smile crept onto his lips. "Don't worry. Everything will turn out just fine."

(-*_~*~_*-)

Much to Tobias' surprise, Mirwen had a farm more determined demeanor than he had expected. They had traveled nearly all day and she asked him for no breach in their ride, though he would not admit to her that he wouldn't have minded the rest. Indeed, he had rarely done so much consistent riding for as long as he could remember. 

When night had descended upon them Tobias had finally found what would ensure their route to Lorien. They had come to the banks of the Anduin, where they had decided to make camp for the evening. While Tobias went to hunt something to eat, Mirwen went on her own to collect firewood, though she couldn't help but feel entranced by the grandeur of the Great River. It snaked across the land like nothing she had ever seen in her life.

She had become so totally immersed in her own thoughts, she hadn't heard Tobias come up from behind.

"It's beautiful isn't it?"

Mirwen's heart leapt into her throat, startled by the sudden sound and dropped the firewood she had collected to the ground.

"Don't do that!" she hissed.

"Sorry," he mumbled, bending down to help her pick up the firewood she had dropped.

She shifted her shoulders and, and said a bit remorsefully. "That's alright."

Later when there was a fire going he presented her with the less than successful outcome of his hunt.

"A squirrel?" The princess arched an eyebrow, trying to hold down her nausea at the thought of having to eat the rodent.

"Well, I wouldn't very well have you eat it raw," he said, taking out his knife as he commenced to skinning the proposed meal.

She looked down at the bread in her left hand and suddenly found that she had no appetite. "I'm not very hungry anymore… You can have it if you like," she murmured as she lay down with her back to the fire. "I think I'll just go to sleep."

Tobias sighed and shook his head. "We'll have to change those picky eating habits of yours, my lady."

She shut her eyes tightly as if to ward him off in this way. The heat of the fire felt comforting as the cold from the ride seemed to have been biting into the dagger wound. She was simply dreading having to awake and face even more riding the next day. 

"What made you come with me?" she asked softly after a while.

Tobias paused as he was now almost finished cooking the squirrel and her suddenly speaking had caught him unaware. "Like I said before… I want to help you."

"But why?"

"It didn't seem right to let you out into the wilderness on your own. Orcs still roam these lands in places, it isn't safe for a woman like yourself…" he replied quietly before eating some of the sparse meat of his catch.

Mirwen opened her mouth slowly, the words disappearing on her tongue, but she had to ask. "Is it because I remind you of your wife?"

He clenched his fists and stared at the fire, Mirwen's form just beyond it. A strange emotion stirred in his heart. He was irritated and pained that she had spoken of his wife at all, but also, in a way, relieved. "_Yes_," he croaked in a voice that was barely audible, making her strain to hear him.

The princess slowly sat up to face him, but he had buried his face in his palms to do his best in avoiding her gaze. Her dark eyes watched the fire and she felt a pang of guilt in her as the flames danced along the logs. Tobias looked up at her and clenched his fists again, the very sight of her soft features seemed to cause him agony.

"I'm…"

"You're not Renuia… I know," he groaned. "I just wish that you were," he added more softly. Mirwen fell into a shocked silence as she tried to search for words. "I'm sorry that I told you that…"

"How did she die?" Mirwen asked, almost against her own will.

"She…she…" He looked at her with his brooding eyes, then tore his gaze away as tears threatened the corner of his eyes. "She became very ill… Maybe if I had paid more attention to her… Oh what I fool I was!" he exclaimed, hiding his face from Mirwen as tears now came freely to him.

She lay back down on the ground, this time facing the flames, her limbs feeling oddly stiff, but not from the riding. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

(-*_~*~_*-)

"Mirwen… Mirwen… Wake up…"

Mirwen's eyes fluttered open to see Tobias crouching low over her, his face a mask of fear an worry. "Tobias… what's-"

He quickly put his finger to her lips to keep from speaking any further. He leaned in close to her ear and spoke in a low voice. "I was out ahead this morning and stumbled across a band of at least a score of Orcs."

The princess' body became rigid as she tried to stifle an apprehensive whimper. "What… what do we do?" she whispered, her voice as thin as paper.

"We leave here quickly and quietly and stay out of the open… That is…" He searched her blanched face. "unless you wish to return to Gondor."

"No," she stated immediately, shaking her head so that her hair came loose and the dark tresses fell onto her shoulders. "We move on."

He nodded then proceeded to help Mirwen to her feet, careful not to disturb something that would give away their position. "We shouldn't go by horse at this time. Not until we know we've lost them completely. I still don't know if they're aware of our presence yet, so we must take every precaution not to be noticed."

Hours of painstaking vigilance followed as they moved carefully on the outskirts of the trees. Not too deep into the forest, but not too close to the open river either. "If all else should fail," he whispered so that just Mirwen could hear him, "run to the water… You'll have a better chance fleeing them in the river than facing them."

"But the current-"

"You have a better chance of beating that current than trying to face down a band of bloodthirsty Orcs," he interjected. "You could try outrunning them on horseback, and though you're consistent, I doubt your equestrian skills."

"Let us hope that it doesn't come to any of those things… That we go unnoticed," she said hopefully. 

Several days had passed and neither Tobias or Mirwen had caught any sign that the Orcs pursued them or were anywhere nearby. By this time they had come to the Falls of Rauros and it was only now, staring off into the vast lands of Middle-Earth that Mirwen realized how far she had come from home. She hadn't been gone for even a month but she had already grown somewhat accustomed to the weight of Anduril at her side and the constant aching of her muscles. If these were the little sacrifices that she must make, then she would endure them. Just to see Rivendell, if only once.

"We still have a great distance to go," Tobias reminded her that night as he prodded the fire, careful of the leaping embers.

"I know…" she sighed, pulling her cloak about her for extra warmth. She was thankful that the weather had gone from torrential rains to calm with only occasional drizzles, it had become unusually cold for early winter. Just as long as it didn't snow they could keep going at this pace. 

"I never bothered to ask before but, what do you plan to do once you have reached Rivendell? It cannot be inhabited any longer. The same goes for the Golden Wood."

"I'm not sure about exactly what I'll do… Perhaps I'll live there…" she mused watching the river. Then an odd sound came to her, it unsettled Mirwen at first, but she realized that it was Tobias laughing. She had never heard him laugh before, and from the sound of it, she could guess that he did not laugh very often.

"You're not going to live in Rivendell…" he said between his laughter.

Mirwen pretended to appear very put off by this. "Oh, and why not? Clearly I could carry on very well by myself," she said self-mockingly. 

"Oh, yes, forgive me for being so blind. The ruins of an Elven kingdom must make for great comfort," he added, smirking.

"I have no idea what to do once I'm there," she confessed after a while. "But I know there is Elven blood in my family…"

"Queen Arwen," he said.

Mirwen nodded knowingly. "I should like to hope," she started, speaking slowly, trying to choose her words with precision, "that once I've reached Imladris I will know why I have come. That perhaps there will be some sort of higher power that will… somehow endow me with the knowledge…"

He had receded back to a blank expression as she tried to muster her words together.

"I know it sounds silly…"

"No," he interrupted. "No, it doesn't. Truly, it doesn't." They sat there watching the river, a word not passing between them for a long time. Tobias turned to her while she exhaled softly and closed her eyes, unaware of his watching her. He raised a hand gently to her face, making it so that she was looking into his eyes. "She wasn't much older than you…" he sighed, lowering his hand.

Mirwen was about to say something but came to a halt. One of the horses had whinnied horribly, but then the noise was cut short. She felt a horrible jolt in her stomach as she realized what this might mean. Tobias quickly put out the fire so that their only means of seeing was the streaming moonlight. Rising, he picked up Anduril and hurriedly shoved it into her hands and got Mirwen to her feet. 

"Run," he ordered. "But try and be quiet about it. If it's nothing I'll catch you up."

She hesitated slightly. The truth of the matter was she didn't feel safe if she were to flee or stay where she was. _Not alone_, she thought. _I can't go into the night alone. I'll be dead before morning._

"I-I can't…"

"You can and you will." He grasped her shoulders tightly, making her wince as the wound was far from fully healed. "Don't be afraid… Do you hear me?"

As if she were in a trance she nodded in compliance, then began to run near the trees of the bank. Once, twice, three times she had tripped in her panic-stricken state but somehow still managed to keep a hold on the sword as she ran headlong into the darkness. From deeper in the forest she could hear the snarling voices of Orcs and began to realize that she had walked straight into a trap. 

Suddenly, Mirwen was grabbed from behind, causing her to let out a shrill scream as she fell back into the Orc that had grabbed her. 

"Let me go!" she shrieked, struggling to free Anduril from its sheathe. 

The Orcs laughed at this. Mirwen's senses told her that there were more Orcs than Tobias had originally estimated. 

"What a pretty human girl," snarled the Orc holding her, its stale breath on her face.

"Let me go!" she cried again. 

"Ooh, she's strong… And I haven't had any good meat in so long," groaned a second Orc remorsefully.

Mirwen's heart beat like a mad rabbit against her rib cage as she saw a hand reach out and clasp itself around her throat. Desperately, she was able to remove the sword and slashed at the Orc's arm. It let out a gurgling cry of pain, and the Orc holding her was so surprised that he had lost his grasp on her. Dropping the scabbard, Mirwen tore off towards the water, realizing that she could no longer run on land.

But before she could reach the water another Orc pulled her down and before she knew what happened she had slammed her head into a rock. 

"You little brat! You'll pay!" roared an Orc holding her limp form under the water.

"No! Maggot-brain!" growled the Chieftain, pulling the other off the girl, then pulled her unconscious body out of the water. He smacked the Orc with her discarded scabbard. "Do you know what this is!"

"Painful!" the other snapped. 

The Orc Chieftain grinned, displaying his rotted teeth. "The White Tree of Gondor."

"Could be the Hand of Sarauman for all the good it will do us!"

"Idiot! Sarauman's long dead and Gondor has never been stronger. This one's out of place," he grunted pointing at Mirwen. "You know how humans are about their offspring. They'll do anything for them. That's why she stays alive… for the time being."

The other Orc looked up with a dumb stricken expression. "Heh. That's why you're the boss."

"I know," said the Chieftain. Then he turned back to the rest of the Orcs "Now get her out of the water and bind her hands. We'll rest here for tonight. Leave her little traveling companion alive for questioning."


End file.
